


Sleep Drunk

by EdgeofFear



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Genuises being stupid, M/M, Sloppy Makeouts, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgeofFear/pseuds/EdgeofFear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony thinks he's taking advantage of Bruce being sleep drunk, Bruce thinks he's taking advantage of Tony being actually drunk, and the rest of the team think they're both too stupid for their own good. It takes, apparently, being locked in a closet to come to terms with your feelings when you're a genius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Tony frowned at the screen, watching as the simulation failed—again. His new suit upgrade just wasn’t working, no matter what he tried. He’d even brought Bruce in, just to have another brilliant mind to help him. Bruce wasn’t making any headway, either, and so he’d turned to his own project.

Which apparently wasn’t working out the way he wanted, either.

“Dammit.” Tony looked up at Bruce’s soft mutter. Bruce almost never swore.

He looked bad, Tony realized. He had dark circles under his eyes, and Tony could see the tension of his shoulders even from a distance. He kept shaking his head, jabbing at the displays with a bit more force than necessary.

Tony kept watching as Bruce pushed himself away from his work station, stood, and started pacing, all the while grumbling equations and questions and swear words in a voice Tony could barely hear.

He cast a glance at his own work before looking back, finding Bruce scrubbing furiously at his face as he kept pacing. Tony stood up and made his way over at a controlled pace, making sure that Bruce knew he was coming.

“Bruce? When was the last time you slept?” Not that he was in any way qualified to ask people about healthy sleeping/eating/interacting habits, but still.

Bruce just shook his head and kept pacing. Tony sighed, shook his head, and stepped in Bruce’s path. When Bruce actually knocked into him, it made him stop, and Tony could see the faint green tint in Bruce’s eyes.

A saner man would have left, or called Cap.

Tony’d never been the saner man.

He grabbed Bruce’s biceps, keeping his hold firm but still gentle. Bruce just kept shaking his head, eyes now firmly closed, and Tony felt a part of his heart break a little bit.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Bruce’s to get him to stop shaking his head.

“Bruce.” He breathed. “Bruce, c’mon buddy. Look at me. C’mon.” Bruce just closed his eyes even tighter, and Tony could feel the very slight tremor that ran through him, could feel him repressing the Other Guy.

And so Tony did one of the things he was best at. He talked. He talked about anything and everything, carefully avoiding science. He talked about how Cap blushed every time Clint wolf-whistled at his ass—because, come on, it was every fucking time he put on the uniform, shouldn’t he be used to it?

He talked about Thor’s silly cape and how Tony was pretty sure he was stealing someone’s curtains every time he needed a new one. And people called him unfashionable. At least he didn’t wear drapes.

He talked about how terrified the guy at Starbucks was whenever Natasha came in to order a very complicated coffee in a fake, heavy accent, and how many times the guy had practically swooned when she finally smiled at him getting it right.

He talked about Clint in the vents—because even Bruce couldn't talk Tony out of that one. Tony was certain Clint was in the vents, the walls, maybe even the fucking floor, and Tony told Bruce about how he kept wanting to put in alarms just to fuck with Clint.

Tony talked and talked and finally, Bruce stopped trembling and opened his eyes. They were the beautiful brown that Tony had, very secretly, grown to adore.

“Tony.” Bruce said, his voice low and rough. Tired. “Stop talking.”

Tony stopped talking, his mouth snapping shut with an audible ‘click’. Bruce gave a wry smile at the noise.

Tony gave a small, honest smile back, and before he knew it, Bruce’s arms were moving, grazing his shoulders and his own arms before finally settling tightly around his waist. Bruce’s head found a place on Tony’s shoulder, which considering the fact that Bruce was taller than Tony, was a feat in and of its own. Tony stood stock still for a long moment, arms held slightly out from his sides to accommodate his lab buddy.

Tony made a questioning nose in the back of his throat, and gave a small, pointless tug to see if he could get loose.

Bruce _growled_.

Tony stopped moving.

Slowly his hands went up, one settling on the nape of Bruce’s neck, the other moving to his messy hair to begin gently combing through it. Bruce made a rumbling noise that Tony liked very much.

A bit too much, considering they were supposed to just be friends/lab buddies.

“Bruce? Buddy? Don’t you think you should head to bed?” And wasn’t that hilarious? Tony Insomniac Stark telling someone else to pack it in.

Bruce made another noise that sounded vaguely like a “no” and Tony couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face. He moved one of his hands from Bruce’s neck to his back and began rubbing his hand up and down in long, slow strokes.

Bruce made the rumbling noise again and Tony’s smile moved into a full blown grin.

“Okay buddy. C’mon. We gotta get you to bed.” Tony outright laughed when Bruce mumbled something against his neck, but still managed to untangle them and steer Bruce to the lift.  
~

It was a challenge to manhandle someone physically bigger than himself out of an elevator and down a hall to his bedroom, but Tony managed somehow. After all, he’s always thrived when presented with a challenge.

Finally he deposited Bruce in his bed and stood for a moment to try to work out the crick in his back. Once he realized that wasn’t really going to happen, he just groaned and looked down at his friend.

Who was adorable when he was nearly asleep.

He stared up at Tony with a sleep-drunk smile on his face, his hair ruffled and his eyes half-lidded. Tony laughed, softly, and then leant down to undo Bruce’s shoes and get them off his feet, gently tugging each one after it was unlaced.

He deposited the pair on the floor and then leant back over Bruce to get his glasses off and onto the bedside table.

Tony had just lifted Bruce’s glasses when Bruce’s hand clamped around his wrist.

And tugged. Hard.

Tony lost his balance and fell, just managing to catch himself on his elbows, half off the bed and half over Bruce, who just smiled some more.

Tony laughed, again, and ran his hand through Bruce’s hair, once. Bruce closed his eyes at the touch.

“Okay, big guy. I’m gonna go and let you sleep. We can do science tomorrow.” His voice was soft, and honestly, Tony had no real desire to move. He knew that once he got up he was going straight back to the lab to work on something—anything—to get his mind off of this, to file it away for later use, to think up what he’d say when Bruce was skittish the next morning, his deep brown eyes downcast and his shoulders slumped in embarrassment.

Bruce shook his head, and Tony started to say something when Bruce moved, again.

His hands came up and framed Tony’s face, palms warm and rough. Tony didn’t have time to react before Bruce leaned up and pulled Tony down at the same time, and then Bruce was kissing him.

It wasn’t spectacular, as far as kisses went. It was little more than just lips brushing against lips, and it was a little off center since Bruce was tired and without his glasses, but Tony smiled into it all the same.

He fervently ignored the pain that blossomed in his chest, too.

Finally Bruce let him go and slumped back and Tony licked his lips, chasing the taste of his friend. Bruce smiled, but his eyes were already falling closed.

Tony waited a few more minutes in his awkward sprawled position just to be sure that Bruce was finally asleep before he moved, carefully putting the almost forgotten glasses on the bedside table and then, on impulse, leaning down and dropping a quick kiss to Bruce’s forehead.

Tony left, then, quickly but quietly, for the sanctuary of his lab.

He didn’t think Bruce would remember the kiss. The cuddling he probably would, but he’d been so close to actually being asleep for the kiss that Tony felt safe.

He felt dirty, too. Like a horrible person.

What kind of asshole did that? It wasn’t the first time that Bruce had been so sleep-drunk that he’d clung to Tony, and Tony had done it a few times himself. Sometimes he’d even been actually drunk, too. Tony always remembered, though. Tony was always in complete control of his actions, and used his state to his advantage, getting closer to Bruce than the man would have allowed otherwise.

And god, that made him a horrible friend. Taking advantage like that, just for a few minutes of closeness that had a totally different meaning to Bruce.

Whenever Tony was the one who was out of it, Bruce just shrugged it off. Blamed the alcohol or the sleep deprivation, and Tony laughed and agreed and kicked himself later. Whenever it was Bruce that was the sleep-drunk one—because Bruce never drank, never so much as sipped—and the cuddling happened, he was always sorry the next day. He always apologized and promised it wouldn’t happen again and Tony would have to watch him being skittish and nervous all day, even after Tony had shrugged it off as no big deal.

God, he was an asshole. Bruce should hate him. God knows Tony hated himself for doing that to his friend.

Tony attempted to forget how much of a dick he was by burying himself in building, again.


	2. Chapter Two

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to fight the headache he could feel threatening to build just behind his eyes.

The mission had been a success. The enemy—this time some kind of mutant rat, of all things—had all been killed, minimal property damage had occurred, and no civilian lives had been lost. He was grateful for that, really.

He might have been a bit more grateful if the team had wanted to go home and go to bed after. The rat things had been hard to kill, a bit bigger than tanks, and vicious. Clint had a broken leg, Tony’s suit was practically ruined, and Thor and Steve both had healing bite wounds. Natasha was mostly unharmed, though Bruce had noticed her moving carefully and cradling her ribs, and he suspected one of the rats had whipped her with its tail.

Bruce himself was physically fine—they couldn’t hurt the Hulk, and even if they’d managed, Bruce always healed—but he was drained.

The rest of the team seemed to be riding on adrenalin still, though, and Tony had decided that a successful mission meant a celebration afterward. Drinks all around—Bruce stuck to hot tea, thank you very much—a bad comedy playing on the ridiculously large television, and more food than even Thor could eat.

And drinking games, because, apparently, why not?

Bruce had opted to sit the games out, though Tony had begged him to stay, and he really couldn’t say no to Tony.

Which was how he found himself, tea long since gone cold, watching as Tony, Clint, Natasha, and Thor played some kind of drinking game together. There were questions involved, and shots, and stripping.

Steve, who couldn’t get drunk, was snoring softly in his favorite armchair and Bruce gave him a brief, jealous glare. Apparently being a soldier meant you could sleep no matter the noise. Lucky bastard.

Bruce turned back to watching the game, though he had no idea what it was. Natasha, still fully dressed, was either winning or losing. He couldn’t tell. The other three players were in various states of semi-nakedness.

Thor was mostly naked, sitting in his boxers, which wasn’t a terribly rare occurrence, anyway. While he seemed to like Midgardian clothes, he rarely wore more than he had to. Everyone in the tower—Bruce included—had seen more than their fare share of nearly naked Asgardian prince. It didn’t even faze them anymore.

Clint was missing his shirt. When he saw Bruce looking he waggled his fingers and Bruce just rolled his eyes.

“Wrong answer, Stark.” Natasha’s voice—not even slurred, despite the nearly empty bottle of vodka she’d been steadily drinking—brought Bruce’s attention to Tony, who was also shirtless, the arc reactor giving off its soft blue light.

Tony groaned, then stood shakily. He had to balance against the table before he was fully standing, and Bruce took a deep breath. He didn’t, generally, like when people drank around him. It brought up bad memories of his off days, and the smell disgusted him.

But Tony…when Tony drank, Bruce put a pretty good show of disapproving, but in reality, he had totally different feelings about a drunken Tony.

Because drunken Tony was clingy. Drunken Tony was tactile, and Bruce seemed to be his favorite person to cling to. Tony would hang onto him, curl into his lap, slip his hands into Bruce’s back pockets, and mouth at Bruce’s neck. And Bruce never tried to stop him, past the obligatory first attempt.

He knew it made him some kind of sick pervert to do that—to take advantage of Tony by letting him get away with it. But he couldn’t stop himself.

He loved it when Tony was so close, even with the disgusting smell of liquor on his breath. Normally, while sober, the most they would touch was when Tony clapped him on the back after a good experiment, or gave him a rough, quick hug after a bad mission.

And frankly, Bruce wanted more. Had been wanting more for months. But he knew Tony—knew that, even though he had a very liquid sexuality, Tony rarely went for guys, and that Bruce was far too old for Tony. And even if, somehow, Tony didn’t blink an eye at those facts, Bruce was a monster. Tony was his friend, and Tony made an effort to befriend the Hulk, as much as a monster could be befriended, but Bruce was still terrified that, deep down, Tony thought about Bruce the same way that Bruce himself did.

A monster. A killer. A freak.

And Bruce would rather live in ignorance than know the painful truth, for once.

“Stark!” Natasha’s bark drew Bruce from his musing back to the present, in time to see Tony fall over. He had no idea what he’d been trying to do, but Bruce still found himself jumping up, even though he was too far to help.

Steve had jolted into awareness when Natasha yelled, too, and he just barely caught Tony before his head hit the floor. Tony grunted his thanks and went about standing again.

“Okay, okay. Okay. Okay. I got this.” Tony was slurring horribly, and Bruce was about to suggest he go to bed when Tony’s hands went to the zipper of his jeans and Bruce’s mouth lost the ability to function.

He started on the zipper, apparently having trouble with it, and he got it down just far enough that Bruce could tell he wasn’t wearing underwear—of course not—when Steve grabbed Tony’s wrist.

“Okay, team. I think that’s enough for tonight. We should all head to bed.” He looked around, and when no one moved, Steve sighed before straightening his back and using his Captain voice. “Now.”

At the command—because that’s what it was—Bruce stood and stretched out the kinks in his back. Natasha helped Clint hobble off towards the elevator, and Steve had to practically wrestle Thor away from the drinks.

“Bruce, can you get Tony?” Steve asked over his shoulder, and Bruce nodded. Tony was slumped down on the floor, now, playing with a shot glass and pouting.

Bruce had to suppress a fond smile at that. Instead, he rolled his eyes and went over to Tony, taking away his shot glass and getting him up with a shoulder under his arm and more than a little effort.

“Steve is a killjoy.” Tony slurred against him, and Bruce just huffed and began hauling Tony to the lift, now that the others had all gone. “And a buzz kill. A buzz killing kill joy-er. Joy. Joy-er. A killbuzzingjoy.” Bruce couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped, more from the seriousness in Tony’s voice than anything else.

“You’re drunk, and you sound ridiculous.” Tony ignored Bruce and kept talking about Steve and his ability to end fun times. Bruce just rolled his eyes and stayed silent, a fond smile on his face where Tony couldn’t see it.

Finally the lift arrived and Bruce stepped into it with Tony plastered against his side. The wonderful thing about JARVIS was that Bruce didn’t have to push a button, which would have been hard with his arms so full of drunken billionaire. JARVIS obediently started the elevator heading to Tony’s floor, and Bruce silently thanked the AI.

“And he interrupted the game!” Bruce looked down at Tony at his outburst, which seemed out of place to Bruce. He figured Tony had probably kept a running dialogue in his head the whole time, and smiled again.

“I think it was a good spot to stop, actually.” Because honestly, he wasn’t sure what he’d have done with himself if Tony had actually stripped down all the way. Especially considering he’d probably still have been the one to have to help his friend to bed after.

Tony huffed against Bruce’s neck, and Bruce concentrated on complicated equations to try and distract himself from the hot, moist air running over his collarbone. He shouldn’t have been getting any kind of enjoyment out of it.

“Bruce…” Tony’s voice was a low murmur and it was all the warning Bruce had before Tony was mouthing hot, wet kisses against the junction of his shoulder and neck. Bruce gasped, hands spasming against his friend.

“Tony…god, Tony…stop. Please.” Bruce was more than ashamed at just how hard saying that was, how hard he was getting, and how rough and breathless his voice had turned. He was also so, so thankful that Tony never seemed to remember it when he got drunk enough to do it.

Tony made a negative noise, but stopped, sighing against Bruce’s neck.

Bruce closed his eyes and took as many deep breaths as could before the elevator stopped on Tony’s floor.

He walked the familiar path to Tony’s bedroom on slightly shaky legs, more or less dragging Tony once the door was open. This was familiar. He’d lost count of all the times he’d helped Tony to bed and vice versa, though he’d only ever been overtired when Tony was the one helping him.

And god, how he loved those rare occasions, too. When it got to the point that Tony had to help him to bed, Bruce was tired enough to let himself hang on Tony, to let himself touch his best friend more than he normally did. He let himself bury his face in Tony’s shoulder or hair and just breathe in his scent—oil and metal and body wash and something that was pure Tony—and it calmed him more than anything else ever had.

And because he was so tired, he could apologize for it and have a reason, an excuse, and Tony always accepted it and laughed it off like it was nothing.

And Bruce wished, so badly, that it was.

He finally got Tony to his bed and, with a bit of maneuvering, managed to move the blankets back and get Tony onto the mattress. Tony giggled like a loon when he bounced a bit on impact, and Bruce smiled at him again.

“Bruce-y?” Bruce looked up at Tony’s face at the sound of his name and Tony smiled at him, pointing to a pair of old sweats in a pile on the floor. Bruce scooped them up without thinking, and when he turned around to hand them to Tony, he nearly had a heart attack.

Tony was wriggling around on the mattress, arching his back, trying to take off his pants. Bruce bit the inside of his cheek hard, but not hard enough to draw blood, and turned away, tossing the sweats over his shoulder. Tony thanked him and sent the jeans sailing to land on Bruce’s head, and how he had any kind of accuracy when he was drunk was still beyond Bruce.

Bruce waited until Tony fell silent on the bed, and he slowly, carefully, turned to find the other man already asleep. The covers were pulled away, but he thankfully had managed to get his sweat pants on.

Bruce neatly folded the jeans and set them on a chair before he turned back to the bed, eyes raking over Tony’s fit form even as he started pulling up the covers. He stopped before he covered Tony’s chest. With one quick look to make sure Tony was still sleeping, Bruce gently framed the blue light with his hands.

There were scars all around the arc reactor, evidence of a less than smooth surgery, but Bruce was no stranger to scars. Once, not too long after Pepper and Tony had broken up and Tony was drunk enough to babble about himself, he’d told Bruce that Pepper hadn’t liked the arc reactor.

She’d never said as much, according to Tony, but she asked him to wear a shirt to bed and didn’t look at it when she could avoid it. Bruce knew Tony was self conscious about it, but Bruce thought it was beautiful.

It was an amazing piece of technology, a testament more than anything else to Tony’s brilliance. And it was keeping Tony alive. To Bruce that alone made it as beautiful as its creator.  It was a shining beacon to him, calling to him even in the midst of anger or desperation. It shone in his mind even when he was the Hulk, when his body wasn’t his. When the light had stuttered out after the Battle of New York, Bruce had panicked. The Hulk hadn’t understood, but knew the light was a good thing.

Bruce ghosted his fingers over the smooth, warm metal casing and couldn’t help the smile and the sting of tears. He couldn’t imagine why Pepper had ever wanted it covered, why Tony would be so wary of showing it.

He dropped a kiss to the arc reactor’s surface just to feel the hum, to assure some part of his mind that Tony was alive, still. Not his, not ever that, but alive.

And for Bruce, that would be more than enough to get him through his days.


	3. Chapter Three

Clint rolled his shoulders, stiff from sitting in the uncomfortable chairs that S.H.I.E.L.D had in their debriefing room. Steve wouldn’t let him sit on the floor, or the table, or the back of his chair, or even the filing cabinets in the corner of the room, no matter how much he begged.

He left the room with Natasha, all of the team spread through the halls heading to the waiting quinjet that would take them home to the tower.

Natasha matched his steps silently, glaring a bit at anyone who stopped to gawk—because a few stupid junior agents still did, because he was Clint Barton, the one who let Loki get away. Clint purposefully didn’t think about that, though, and just grinned at Natasha when she swept a critical eye over him.

He looked up ahead and nudged her a second later, gesturing with his eyes at Tony and Bruce who were several feet ahead, talking in fast voices, speaking a language made of scientific jargon. Occasionally they’d bump shoulders, and neither man seemed inclined to move so it didn’t happen again.

Clint pitched his voice low so that no one but Natasha (And maybe Steve, who was walking behind them with Thor) would hear, “Think they figured it out yet?”

Natasha just rolled her eyes. “Of course not. Do you think Tony would be discrete?” Clint laughed, then, picturing Tony being so obvious about being in a relationship with Bruce.

“Well, I hope they figure it out soon. The sexual tension in the quinjet it going to be unbearable.” He whispered back, already slightly dreading the flight home.

~

Thor shifted against his seat. He disliked riding in the jet. It was small and cramped, and he was very capable of flying by himself. But Steve insisted on it, and so Thor had to make do.

He was glad that they were landing, though. He was ready to bathe, change, and eat. The mission had been difficult, the battle long, but they had won in the end, as they always did.

As they all left the quinjet, Thor watched Tony swing an arm around Bruce’s shoulders, and he grinned.

They went inside before he could say anything to them, and so instead he turned to Steve.

“Is it not wonderful?” He asked, grinning with joy.

Steve just stared at him. “Uh…is what wonderful, Thor?”

Thor laughed and pointed at where Tony and Bruce could still be seen through the glass walls, even they couldn’t hear them anymore.

“Tony and Bruce! Our friends, together at long last!” His voice boomed, but still the couple in question didn’t seem to hear him. “It has been a long time in coming, has it not? And finally, the glorious day is here!”

Steve turned red and quickly made a “hush” gesture to him. Thor frowned in confusion.

“No, Thor, it’s not like that.” He paused, seeming to think over his words. “Okay, no. It’s like that. They’re interested in each other, but they aren’t together.”

Thor’s frown only deepened. “If they care for each other, as we can all see they do, why are they not?” He did manage, just barely, to keep his voice softer than its normal bellow.

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “They care about each other—maybe even love each other—but neither of them know it’s a mutual feeling. I don’t think they’ve said anything to each other about it while completely awake and sober.”

Thor nodded at this, remembering clearly the times when one man had clung to the other, and acknowledging that all of those times one of the men had been intoxicated—either from lack of sleep or consumption of spirits.

“Should we not inform them?” He asked, truly perplexed.

Steve just shook his head.

~

Tony stretched as far as he could, wincing at the pull of his sore muscles. His fingertips just barely brushed the tool he needed. The bots were all recharging, and he didn’t want to wait to get to work on the newest suit upgrade that had popped into his head. He knew that Steve would insist he ate a real meal after their mission earlier that day, so he couldn’t wait until later.

Tony stretched a little bit more. Almost…almost…

Tony grabbed the tool with a triumphant smile just as he felt his foot slip.

He didn’t even have time to swear, though, before he was falling, and then abruptly his fall stopped.

He found himself looking upside down at a very shocked looking Bruce, hair still wet and dripping from the shower he’d taken as soon as they got back.

“Oh. Hey.” He said, calm as could be. Bruce just glared at him. Tony gave him a gentle smile in return. “Thanks for catching me, buddy. Again.”

Bruce’s glare softened just a hair. “You need to be more careful. I won’t always be there.”

Tony just chuckled up at him. “Sure you will be.” He grinned at his friend and set about standing on his own. Once he was firmly on the ground, Bruce let him go. Tony cut a mock curtsy, and then without thinking, leant forward and just the slightest bit up—why was he so fucking short, anyway?—to place a quick dry kiss to Bruce’s cheek.

Almost immediately Tony realized what he did, and his eyes widened.

“Um yeah, so thanks for saving me. Again. Um. I’m going to go. Do something. Not here. Sorry. Bye.” And then he was gone, jogging lightly out of the lab, down the hall, and into the first room he came to. It happened to be a small, empty lounge.

Tony threw himself onto the sofa, knees on the cushions and chest pressed into the back of it.

“Fucking fantastic, Stark. Fucking brilliant.” He wanted to bang his head against the wall, but as he was too far, he just groaned instead. “You finally find a science buddy that isn’t a creepy old guy and you have to go and fuck it up by falling in love with him. And then you can’t even manage to keep it to yourself! Fuck!” He groaned again and fisted his hair, pulling sharply. “Fucking idiot.”

“Yep.” Tony yelled at the new voice and flailed around, falling backwards to land on his back on the, thankfully thick, carpeting. From his new position he could see Clint swinging down from a hatch in the ceiling, grinning like an idiot.

“I fucking knew it! I’m going to put fucking lasers in the vents, you asshole!” Tony was pretty sure some yelling was natural. Clint just laughed at him. He was so going to tell Bruce that he’d been right all along and they were housing a creeper in their midst.

Bruce.

Tony groaned again.

“So, what’s got your panties in a twist this time, Stark?” Clint asked, perching on the coffee table Tony had somehow missed on his way down.

“None of you fucking business, Barton.” He hissed back, middle finger going up. Clint just laughed again.

“Oh, I think it is. Because I think it’s about our dear doctor.” Tony’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at that, and Clint just kept laughing.

“No!” Tony argued, although really, there was no point in lying to Clint. He might get away with lying to Steve, and for sure Thor, but never Clint or Natasha.

Clint just kept on chuckling. “Uh-huh, sure. So, you finally grow some balls and tell him how feel?”

Tony spluttered. “It’s not like that!” And he really wished it wasn’t. And fuck, how did Clint know? If he knew, that meant Natasha knew, too. Did Steve? Fuck, did Thor know? If Thor and Steve knew, Tony was pretty sure that Bruce had probably figured it out himself, which just meant he was trying to find a way to be nice about letting Tony down, because Bruce wasn’t an asshole.

Clint saw the way Tony’s face fell bit by bit and his lingering smile disappeared. “Tony? Man? Did you?”

Tony just flipped him the bird again and didn’t answer.

Clint studied him for a long minute before nodding to himself.

“So, you didn’t tell him. You should.” Tony glared at him again and Clint went on. “I’m serious, man. Tell him. I’m pretty certain he won’t react like you think. And I know he’s not going to green on you for confessing that, either.”

“No shit, Barton! He’s not a fucking loose cannon, okay? He’s got better control than that! Stop fucking acting like someone sneezing is going to set him off! And stop talking! There’s nothing to confess! Jesus, you’re making me sound like a fourteen year old girl!” Tony sat up during his tirade, pointing an angry finger at Clint, who just stared at him with calculating eyes.

“I know he’s not going to, Tony. He has stellar control.” He paused again, keeping his voice soft. “And I know what’s going on. Better than you do, really. It’s okay to like him, and its okay to tell him.”

Tony huffed and leaned forward so that his chin rested on the couch cushion. “No, it’s not. Because then he’ll feel bad about not reciprocating.”

Clint just rolled his eyes, now that Tony couldn’t see him. “And how do you know he doesn’t?”

Tony closed his eyes and let his shoulders sag. Even if he was a creepy asshole that hid out in vents and creeped on people, Clint was still his friend, teammate, and housemate.

“Because he isn’t stupid.” His words were a soft murmur, and Clint frowned. He opened his mouth to say something, but then just shook his head, gave Tony a quick shoulder squeeze and climbed back up to the vent. He had to talk to Natasha.

~

Bruce spent a few minutes blinking in shock before Steve came into the lab, looking cautious, as he always did around machinery. He walked to the couch and looked around before finding his sketch pad, which he then picked up with a small smile. He was turning to leave when he caught site of Bruce, one hand still raised to his cheek in shock.

“Bruce…?” Steve’s voice was hesitant, and it snapped Bruce out of his stupor.

Bruce cleared his throat and shook his head a little before he looked over to Steve. “Um, yes?” He asked, mind still mostly preoccupied.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, obviously sensing that Bruce wasn’t. He walked closer until he was standing just a foot or two away.

Bruce gave the floor, where his eyes had drifted, a dark smile. “Confused, but not going to Hulk out.” And he knew it wasn’t fair, to say that, but he wanted Steve to leave so he could think.

Steve was glaring at him, he could feel it. “I didn’t think you would. And I didn’t ask that. I asked if you’re _okay_. And I know you aren’t. What happened?” His voice had a hint of Captain America in it, giving it a backing of steel, and Bruce sighed.

“Sorry. I just…” He trailed off, wondering if he really wanted to get into it with Steve about Tony.

“Is this about Tony?” Steve asked, voice once against gentle. Bruce’s head shot up. His look clearly asked ‘how did you know?’, and Steve cracked a grin at him. “Just a good guess.”

Bruce took a deep breath, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah he…uh…”

“Did you fight?” Real concern filled the words, and Bruce felt his heart warm a little at the fact that someone as good as Steve Rogers could be concerned about him. Maybe he wasn’t a lost cause after all.

“No. He…he fell. From the step ladder. I caught him. Told him to be careful, and he thanked me, and then he…um…” And god, was he really going to tell Mr. 1940 about it? But Steve just waited patiently, and Bruce knew this was a man he could trust. He knew Steve wasn’t homophobic in the least, and beyond that, Steve was his _friend_. “He kissed me on the cheek, babbled, and left.” He could say it, but he’d be damned if he could look at Steve when he did.

Steve’s face got a little pink, but he just sighed and shook his head.

Bruce went on, though, before Steve could say anything. “And, obviously, he didn’t mean anything from it. But he freaked out and left. So that means he’s obviously picked up on something from me, and that makes him leery of me.” He snapped his mouth shut at what he’d just admitted.

He looked up when Steve chuckled. “Bruce, everyone knows.” At Bruce’s horrified look, Steve amended, “Everyone but Tony.” And that didn’t really help. So the whole _team_ knew that he was in love with Tony? How could Tony not know, then?

Steve seemed to sense the question, or see it in his face, and he chuckled again. “Tony’s pretty oblivious. It’s a genius thing, I think.” Bruce frowned at that, because he was pretty sure there was a double meaning there. “Anyway, I’m sure he’ll settle down for dinner. It’s almost ready, by the way. Why don’t you come up?” And Bruce just sighed, nodded, and obediently followed his captain.

~

Steve left Bruce in the kitchen, setting up dinner for eight—Pepper and Rhodey were joining them, since both were in the building for the day—and went to “get the team”.

Really, he went to Clint’s room, where he found his team already waiting.

They spent the next ten minutes—because it had to be a fast meeting if they were going to keep up pretenses—heatedly discussing the events and what to do about them.

Clint suggested various vulgar things that Steve ignored, while Thor suggested just telling them. Natasha suggested ignoring it, which Steve had guessed she’d do, and Steve himself had no idea. He’d never had a situation like this, before.

Both men were so brilliant, and so oblivious at the same time. It was mind-boggling.

“Okay, fine. New plan. One of you sees an opening for something that isn’t disgusting, Clint, or outright saying it, Thor, take it.” He said, a bit of his Captain voice leaking through. They nodded and then headed up to the kitchen.

~

Rhodey followed Pepper down a small hallway to the room where the delicious smells of food were coming from. There was a murmur of voices, too, an occasional laugh or bellow (He knew Thor was there before ever actually seeing him), and Rhodey couldn’t help but smile.

He’d liked visiting the tower since the Avengers moved in. Ostensibly it was for repairs and upgrades to his War Machine suit, but in reality it was just nice to hang around with them. And he’d never seen Tony happier.

Which was why his steps faltered when he entered the kitchen and ran into the almost visible wall of awkward tension that filled the room.

Pepper noticed it too, he could tell, but she just kept walking and took her seat next to Natasha at one end of the table. Rhodey took the last seat, on Tony’s left.

He shot his friend a look but Tony was pointedly ignoring him in favor of dissecting his lasagna.

After a few minutes of strained silence, Pepper asked Steve a question, and the conversation began again, although it was stilted and awkward and Rhodey couldn’t help but notice that neither Tony or Bruce said very much at all.

~

Pepper helped Natasha stack the dishes in the dishwater as the boys all went to the attached living room to settle in and select their movie for the night. Normally Pepper would be shouting choices into them so that she could at least pretend she had a say, but this time she stayed quiet.

She asked Natasha what was going on with Bruce and Tony—because it was so obvious that _something_ was. She wasn’t even around all that often and she could tell.

Natasha filled her in, making sure she knew about the way they felt about each other (because of course she did. Pepper had worked for Tony for years. She knew his tells better than anyone.) before going on to explain about the kissing incident in the lab.

Pepper smacked a palm into her forehead out of sheer exasperation.

“My god, it’s worse than two teenagers.” Natasha agreed with her and Pepper started thinking up a plan.

Tony Stark was a genius at many things—including talking himself out of a corner. And Bruce Banner had made a lifestyle out of running away from things. It wasn’t going to be easy, but she thought she had a plan.

She smiled to Natasha and squared her shoulders. She walked into the living room, head high, glare in place.

The boys all turned to look at her, while Natasha hung back, smirking. Tony had a look on his face that she’d put there more than once. It was his ‘oh shit I’m in trouble’ look, and Pepper could have laughed at it if it wouldn’t have ruined her effect.

Without waiting for anyone’s brains to catch up with the rest of them, she grabbed Tony by the back of his shirt in one hand and used the other to grab Bruce’s arm, just above the elbow. Her hold was firm enough that both knew they couldn’t get away with a small fight, and she knew neither would ever risk hurting her.

She frog marched them a little ways down the hall until she found a door and opened it, pushing them into the supply closet without a second glance.

“Fix your issues, and then you can join us for a movie. Or stay in there all night.” She said loudly through the door and over Tony’s swearing. She then smiled up at the ceiling. “JARVIS? Please keep this door locked unless there is a call to assembly or a risk to either Tony or Bruce’s health.”

“Of course, Miss Potts.” Jarvis said, and Pepper’s smile turned into a full blown grin. She turned back to the room and bowed slightly when everyone starting applauding her.

~

“Fucking…fuck! She’s so fucking fired when we get out of here. I swear to god. Fired! This is ridiculous!” Tony ranted at the door, refusing to turn around and look at Bruce. He could hear the laughter and applause from the other room and it just darkened his glare. “So fired. I am so firing her ass. And Rhodey. He’s fucking fired too. Because fuck them. What is their issue? She’s insane, and I can’t have an insane lady leading the company.”

“You can’t actually fire Rhodey. He doesn’t work for you.” Bruce pointed out, a slight smile on his face. Tony whirled to face him and put his hands on his hips, cocking them.

“So? I’ll hire him and then fire his ass. Or I’ll fire him from being my best friend. Because I know he was in this. I just know it. And how in the hell are you so fucking calm right now?” Tony really didn’t care that he was yelling, that the others could hear him over the movie. He was beyond caring.

Here he was, locked in a fucking _closet_ of all places with his friend. The guy he secretly (or not so secretly according to Clint) had the hots for. After making himself look like an idiot. Again.

“I’m calm because Jarvis will let us out if anything goes wrong, and everyone else is just out there. I’m upset about this, sure, but there’s no need to rant about it. Besides, this is a really big closet. It’s not like she locked us in a tiny room.” And he was right, of course, the closet was huge, much bigger than a normal one because it was Tony Stark and he didn’t do anything by halves.

Tony just kind of stared at Bruce for a moment, unsure of what, exactly, to say to that, before he slumped his shoulders and sat on the floor.

Bruce followed his example, sitting across from him. The closet was long, but a bit narrow, and so they had to keep their legs bent if they wanted to stay out of each other’s space. And it was clear that they did.

“So why do you think they locked us in here?” Bruce asked, because the silence was going to drive him insane otherwise. Tony just gave a shrug, staring off to the left.

“I don’t know.” He paused, eyes fluttering up to Bruce’s face before they fell back to the floor. “Maybe…the kiss thing.” Bruce opened his mouth to say something, but Tony beat him to it. “Which I am totally sorry about, by the way. It was a bad move and I shouldn’t have done it and I won’t do it again, because obviously it wasn’t cool, and I’m very, very sorry.”

“Tony,” Bruce interrupted, catching Tony’s eyes with his own when Tony looked up at him again. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. It was just a kiss on the cheek. Between friends. Nothing to get upset about.” Bruce bit his lip for a moment before he steeled himself to continue. “Why’d you freak out, anyway? I mean, it’s not really a big deal.”

And okay, that stung Tony. He always knew that they were just friends—had brow beaten himself with that information for months—but to get something like the “friends” speech from Bruce? It hurt.

There was a knock on the door that startled them both before Tony could think of a response.

“Stop being babies. Grow up and sort yourselves out so you can come watch the movie. You’ve been in there for twenty minutes.” Rhodey paused. “Jarvis, cut their lights.” And Jarvis did.

Tony swore for several minutes about traitorous AIs and asshole friends before he settled down again, not even bothering to get up.

“Hey Tony?” Bruce’s voice was soft, and Tony turned his head towards it. There was barely any light in the room, and Tony realized with a small start that it was coming from his arc reactor, muffled through his layers of shirts but still present.

“Look at me, Bruce. I’m a night light.” His tone was self deprecating and Bruce made an unhappy noise before Tony heard him shifting around. He startled when a hand found his shoulder.

“Don’t.” Bruce said, voice low. “Don’t act like its some horrible disfiguration.”

Tony barked out a humorless laugh at that. “It is. You’ve seen the scars.”

“Yeah, I have. And you’ve seen me completely naked after turning back from a giant green rage monster. Do you have a point?” Bruce’s hand was still on Tony’s shoulder, his voice low and his warm breath ghosting over Tony’s cheek. Tony tried to stifle a pleasant shiver.

“Nope.” Tony said, popping the ‘p’. Bruce shifted around again until he settled next to Tony, shoulders and hips pressed together.

Silence reigned, and Bruce had to fight the urge to get even closer than he was. He was trying to find something, anything, to say, when Tony spoke up again.

“I’m actually a little scared of the dark, you know. Because of Afghanistan.” Tony’s voice was soft, honest, and Bruce turned his head to take in his barely visible profile. “It’s kind of…comforting, I guess. To always carry my own light. And, well, if this goes out…I’m pretty much fucked.”

Bruce swallowed at that, because he knew it was true. If that little circle of light ever went out and a new one couldn’t be put in fast enough, Tony would die. Bruce didn’t want to think about just how fragile that made the man sitting next to him.

The silence started creeping up on them again, so Bruce felt it was his turn to admit something. “Me too. About the dark, I mean. I…when I Hulk out, everything’s dark. And it’s more than that, of course. You’ve read my file, you know about my father.” Tony nodded slightly, and Bruce continued, staring blankly in front of himself again, no longer looking at Tony. “He used to turn the lights off and keep them off. Keep me in the dark, if I misbehaved. He’d smack me around and then make me sit in the dark with all the monsters I imagined up. Most of them had his face.”

Tony shifted around until he was turned towards Bruce, and one arm went around Bruce’s chest in a pseudo-hug.

“He’s gone. And so is Ross. And we can manage the Hulk. And…and I’m here, for whatever that’s worth.” Tony’s voice was barely a whisper, and Bruce exhaled shakily, bringing up his hand and placing it on Tony’s arm across his chest.

“And I’m here. You won’t be left alone like that again. I promise.” Bruce could feel Tony smile against his shoulder, and it filled him with warmth.

“So, since we’re sharing and feeling and all that…I should probably tell you that I think I know why those assholes locked us in here.” Bruce huffed a laugh against Tony’s hair but waited for him to continue. “I…um. I might have…feelings for you. No, I do. And…apparently they all know. And think I should tell you. Sorry.” Tony tried to pull away but Bruce wouldn’t let him go.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so full of surprised joy, and he just gave the dark an unbelieving smile.

“That actually works out pretty well, because I have feelings for you too, and apparently everyone but you knew about it.” His voice sounded tight, but Bruce didn’t care. He honestly didn’t want to wake up from this dream, because that’s what it had to be.

Tony pulled back from him after a minute and Bruce let him go, thinking it was over, he’d ruined it. Like he always did.

But then Tony laughed. “We’re idiots, aren’t we?” He didn’t let Bruce answer him, though, because then Tony was on him. His arms slotted around Bruce’s neck like they were made to fit there, and he was kissing him.

It was messy and a little painful, since Tony all but attacked his mouth, and managed to miss the first try, too. They laughed into the kiss until they got it right, and then there was no more laughter, no more talking.

Bruce clutched at Tony, and Tony clutched him right back, kissing the life out of each other.

They had to come up for air, though Tony used it to start kissing Bruce along his jaw, peppering him with tiny kisses that made Bruce laugh again. Bruce worked his hand between them and covered the arc reactor with it, smiling at the gentle hum of electricity he could feel even through Tony’s shirts.

Tony smiled against Bruce’s jaw. “If this is a dream, please don’t wake me up.” He murmured, voice low and just a bit rough.

Bruce laughed again. “That was incredibly corny.”

Tony pulled back a bit and nuzzled his nose against Bruce’s hair. “And I’m incredibly horny.”

Bruce laughed, again, and he was so thankful that Tony could make him laugh. “You’re _horrible,_ Mr. Stark.” He said, his tone light and teasing.

Anything Tony might have said was stopped when the lights turned on and the door opened the show a smiling Pepper and a smirking Rhodey, the team spread out behind them.

Tony got up, glaring at them the whole while, and helped Bruce up, keeping a firm hold on his hand. Bruce didn’t even try to hide his smile.

They had just closed the door when Clint lost control and finally started snickering.

“Well, congratulations on finally coming out, guys!” He said, practically howling with laughter from his perch on the back of the couch. Tony snarled something and broke free from Bruce to march to the couch, snatch up a pillow, and chuck it at Clint. He was so busy laughing his ass off that it actually hit him and knocked him off the couch.

The whole team started laughing as Tony bombarded their archer with pillows and curse words, and Bruce chuckled along.

“Well, this is pretty typical. Think you can handle this?” Bruce looked to Pepper, who had moved to stand next to him, a gentle smile on her face as she watched the ongoing pillow fight.

Bruce looked back in time to see Thor knock Tony down with another pillow.

“Yeah, I think I’ll be fine.” He said, laughter coloring his words.

Pepper took in the scene with him as Rhodey joined in the fight.

“Me too.”


End file.
